it's beautiful.
the eyes of

postcard poem 1there is a guiltiness in the burning touch of fingertips, in sobriety, in bleeding hearts.postcard poem 1
there is guiltiness where ice is not enough to bring down these temperatures;
we fly like neon flares on the horizon, like guilty palm prints on the skyline.
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Please visit my website: [link] !
[link]
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"And in a shroud of darkness, Grammar Woman jumped through the air, leaving nothing but a sparkling cloud of punctuation marks in her wake." ~A-S-m-i-t-h
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"And they, since they were not the one dead, turned to their affairs." (Out, Out--Robert Frost)
[slaps self]
[rectifies watching situation]
It was an unintentional error... I thought I had already done it. That'll teach me to stop doing things in the middle of the night when I have that foggy-memory syndrome..
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